


Not Your Type

by Rosawyn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Possibly Unrequited Love, Probably Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosawyn/pseuds/Rosawyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Steve frowned. "What makes you think I have a 'type'?"'  In which love is unrequited and my OTP hurts my heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Type

**Author's Note:**

> I apparently wrote this ages ago (shortly after seeing 'The Avengers', I believe) and only recently found it again and polished it up (with amazing beta help from my sister, Esther Huffleclaw). If it's meant to be set in the actual canon timeline, it would be _during_ 'The Avengers'.

“I know I'm not exactly your type.” Phil bounced on the balls of his feet nervously. How the hell had this conversation gotten to this point again? It's not like he could remember his own middle name when Steve was this close, let alone how to string together a coherent sentence.

Steve frowned. “What makes you think I have a 'type'?”

“Well, Peggy Carter...” Phil could feel his face heating up. This really didn't seem to be going well. He looked around for an escape.

“Peggy Carter wasn't a 'type'.” There was a hard edge in Steve's voice and he glared down at Phil. “She was a _person_ , the only person I ever—” Steve broke off, his voice choked. There were tears in his eyes. For him, of course, the loss was still so new.

“I-I'm sorry!” Phil blurted out, awkwardly trying to put a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder. The hand made it to Steve's shoulder, but he doubted it was in any way comforting to the other man. “I didn't mean...I'm sorry.” He looked down, trying to compose himself. “Look, I shouldn't have said anything. It's obvious that you're, um, dealing with some grief...issues right now. And I—well, I don't ever seem to say what I mean when I'm trying to talk to you. I think I actually say about the worst things I possibly could, and that probably makes things difficult for both of us, so maybe I should just try to not...talk...so much, or just stay away as much as possible...”

“No.” Steve's voice had such calm certainty in it, and Phil suddenly realized that Steve had gripped his arm as he spoke. “I don't want you to...'not talk' to me. Or stay away from me. Please.” Steve was looking at him with an impossible amount of sincerity in his beautiful eyes. “I could use a...a friend.”

Phil was nodding. Of course, a friend. He was good at that...usually. When he could remember how to talk, or, perhaps more importantly, how to stop. If that's what Steve needed... He swallowed past the unwelcome tangle of hurt and inadequacy in his throat. “Sure. Yeah. I'd like that.”

And maybe Phil could even be a _good_ friend to Steve if he could just figure out how to remove that apologetic look from Steve's eyes. Maybe then. Maybe.


End file.
